Out of Dark Waters
by Crooked
Summary: It's 3 months after Tatchi and Chris Redfield is continuing his work with the BSAA; however, when Piers returns to the surface, Chris will do whatever it takes to get the young Lt back. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Abyss

_Title_: Out of Dark Waters

_Summary_: It's 3 months after Tatchi and Chris Redfield is continuing his work with the BSAA; however, when Piers returns to the surface, Chris will do whatever it takes to get the young Lt back.

_Author's Note_: First RE fic, and sorry if there's any mistakes littered in there, I didn't have anyone edit it before posting. Thank you for reading!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Resident Evil.

_Chapter 1_: Abyss

Rolling, darkly stormy clouds hovered low over the murky and turbulent waves of the Tatchi harbor as a small, white boat swung with the black waves. Labeled with enormous, red blocked letters, "BSAA", a young male clad in a blue and and black cream uniform leaned over the edge of the swaying vessel.

"You think we can pick up the speed any, Williams?" called the soldier as he threw his thumb towards the docks. "Headquarters is daydreaming if they think we can pull this off the way we're going!"

The scuba-diver tossed her hands in the air, sending frothy bubbles everywhere. "What do _you _think, Price?! We're going to need another ship if we want to get all this rubble outta here by tonight!"

The agent sighed; he knew this was going to happen. Even with helicopter support, the recovery operation was going at a snail's pace at best. The underwater complex hundreds of feet below was just too huge, too destroyed and too littered with toxins (_besides_ the threat of the c-virus) to try and dismantle in one week. Even with the new vaccine, they had to be extremely careful being so close the mainland.

"I'll call it in!" he called back with a stout nod.

"Tell 'em also that we found Haos' carcass!" yelled the woman, cupping her hands to her mouth. Suddenly, she quirked her head to the right where her earpiece was located. Beneath the many, many yards of water, the other BSAA members were working hard to get everything done, staying connected to the surface as much as they could. Sometimes it was just checking up—sometimes it was because a huge piece of debris was about to float up to meet them.

Eyes widening, the agent in the boat waited for the sudden—and not necessarily good—news.

Starting, Williams cried out, "_WHAT?!_"

The male straightened. "What ha—?!"

"There's a B.O.W. heading for the surface _right now!_"

Gasping, Price lunged for the radio attached next to the steering wheel of the boat. White and blue bubbles surrounded the female as she spun in the grey waters, wondering where to move and having nowhere to go. Within a matter of seconds, a lump in the water broke and out shot a small, dark form into the sky ten or so yards above them. As quickly as it went up, it came crashing down on the very same boat Price was standing on. The young agent lost his grip on the radio, having to reach for whatever was close so he wasn't thrown into the sea. Taking a second to clear his head—and hearing Williams yell his name from below—Price stared at the B.O.W. in shock and horror. Frozen, he could only watch as cold water drained from the body of _what looked like_ a BSAA member—perhaps the very one which had stayed behind to die just three months ago.

And he could see why.

Slowly, like time itself had ground to a halt, did the infected BSAA agent look up to stare at Price with a dark, fixed glare. His right arm, pumped with infected boils and rotted from seawater, twitched as though coming back to life...besides the tiny arcs of blue electricity curling off the sodden skin. In the water, Williams yelled for her co-worker, her friend, as she swam up to the vessel.

"Stay back, Williams!" yelled the male, despite knowing his disadvantage. Williams was the soldier—him, not so much. But he had to due with what he had.

Across from him, a low, rumbling growl resonated from the B.O.W., his greyed face creasing with aggravation as he took a step forward. Those three months underwater had certainly taken their toll; but all Price could think of was hoping to _God_ that he would make this out alive.

"Are you…" started the male, reaching behind to his back for his pistol, "...are you...Piers Nivans?"

The growl cut short, the man across from him cocking his head. His eyes—or rather, his one working eye—flicked from the left, to the right, then back again as though hearing those words before and trying to place them.

Price squeezed the gun's handle, his eyebrows arching down in thought. The boat was still swinging back and forth like crazy, the sea just as frustrated as they were. He didn't want to shoot another BSAA member if he didn't damn well have to...but…!

Then, the B.O.W. whispered something, a sentence Price couldn't distinguish.

"What did you say…?" wondered the young agent as gently as possible.

"Wh...where is…" began Piers again (yes, that's who he was for certain), his remaining human hand reaching to his bloodied head.

There was a thick, strained pause. He could sense Williams was trying to figure out a way to get into the boat without being detected. Until then, the male had to buy time. "Where is what…?"

"Where...is…" Piers glared at Price, hunching down dangerously as he bared sharp fangs. "_Where is Chris __**Redfield**_?!"

—

"Hey, Captain, wanna grab a beer tonight?" asked Dredd, leaning to one foot as her shoulder pressed against a crumbling wall next to them. "I hear the new bar in town has one good lookin' bartender…"

"Pay attention, would you?" snapped Cooper as she stood a little straighter, her question in a harsh whisper. "This training mission isn't just a _game_, it's to prepare us for real combat and you're not being serious about it is freaking annoying!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch—staying calm is an important part of combat," claimed the larger female as she patted her M-16 lovingly to her chest, " and that's why my baby is close by just in case."

"I'm not satisfied with having _your baby_—which alone is disturbing that you call your rifle that—as a good enough reason to try and waste time hooking up with our superior officer," growled the blonde with bared teeth.

As amusing as it was to watch the two agents (and friends, as much as they denied it) start delving into when it was the right time to ask Chris on a date, the Captain said, "Stop talking, you two. The other team is about to come bursting in and you're both about to be knocked out."

"Yessir," they both muttered, the dark, concrete walls settling into silence again.

Of course, Redfield didn't really _mind_ all the chatter—and to him, these simple training missions were more like time off from his usual orders from HQ—but, the young cadets also looked up to him. To slack and to joke was all good in the classroom from time to time, but they had to pay attention during these…"training sessions" (which were more like school games with paintball guns, to be honest). They were on the defensive, half of their team going for the enemy's "flag", while the enemy was coming for theirs. About twenty feet away, behind them, sat the rubber chicken dusted with white concrete debris and years worth of wear and tear. But, to them and for this purpose, it was as precious as gold.

About ten minutes had passed since the session began...things would begin to heat up soon. Fortunately, the sun was beginning to rise and the world would be soaked with warmth again...and these walls wouldn't remind him so much of certain other places. Dark, cold and cramped. He hated it.

Another five minutes of pressing quiet, and Chris was beginning to wonder. They were utilizing an abandoned (and safe) electrical power plant to play out their war games, but the building wasn't _that _big. Unless the enemy was going for a surprise attack (which wasn't altogether surprising), he should've at least heard from his _own _team members that they'd gotten the enemy's chicken. Or cursing. There was a lot of that with the American cadets.

Pressing his ear piece to his head with two fingers, the Captain murmured, "Spencer, what's your location?"

There was a pause, the crackle of static. Then, '_The roof, sir.'_

"The _roof_?" asked Chris, his jaw tightening with annoyance. "I thought I made it _clear_ the roof was—"

'_There's _something _here, Captain,'_ responded Spencer, a slight tremble to his voice.

Stopping, the senior officer took in a breath and felt his entire being tighten with dread. Spencer was considered the cocky and ambitious cadet leader of his small platoon—the fact that he even seemed remotely frightened was a bad sign.

"What did you see?" asked Chris seriously as he removed the "dummy" magazine from his rifle and replaced it with live ammo. He'd been smart enough, and maybe a little paranoid, to bring some form of proper defense...just in case.

'_I dunno, it looked like...'_ whispered Spencer, when his radio suddenly cut to static.

"_Spencer_!" snapped the Captain, his eyes widening.

No. No, no, no! _Not_ the cadets!

"Sir?" asked Cooper, gripping her own weapon tighter to her flack jacket.

Glancing at the other members in the small room, he instructed, "_Stay here_. Do not leave this room for any other reason other than evacuation, _am I clear_?"

The rest of the young agents jerked straight. "Yessir!"

"I'll be right back," he growled, turning to exit into the dark hallway. Getting onto a different link with their "home base", Chris checked his weapons as he said, "Anders. I need these cadets evacuated."

'_What, why—?'_

"We have a problem. Just do it."

'_Uh...yes Captain!'_

Back on the link with the in-training agents, Chris instructed both teams to _get down and shut up_ until they were instructed to safely exit the building. These were just young BSAA members, and even though they were well-trained and almost ready to take on real missions, paintballs were not enough. As a matter of fact, two clips of AR ammo and one of pistol ammo and a large Bowie knife wasn't enough, either, but he'd gone against ridiculous odds before. At any rate, he couldn't let those under him get hurt...especially not when this was suppose to just be an exercise.

Turning from relaxed instructor to hardass Captain in a matter of seconds, Chris fed the ammo into the chamber and lurked through the winding hallways, following his digital map to get to the exit to the roof. His heart was thundering in his ears, worse than usual based on the circumstances, his body tightened like a knot.

_Dammit, please, please, just—_

Suddenly, the clatter and _boom_ echoed through the hallway, as though the roof had collapsed only a couple rooms away. Yelling out Spencer's name, Chris lunged into an all-out sprint as he tore through one corner, then the next, then—

"_Captain!_"

A shadow came over Chris as something heavy and solid collided into him.

Slamming into the wall to his left, the breath stolen from his lungs, the Captain stumbled, dazed, for a couple seconds too long. There were shots fired as Spencer assaulted the B.O.W. with useless paintball pellets—but that didn't stop the menacing snarl of pain to erupt from the creature anyway. Meanwhile, Chris shook his head of the lingering fog, lifting his weapon as he did so.

The B.O.W. screamed, then, and took off—something the Captain _didn't_ expect.

Bursting through the opposite concrete wall like tissue paper, the B.O.W. disappeared further into the building. Redfield only paused briefly to hurriedly check over Spencer, commanding him to leave the building as fast and as safely as possible before racing after the creature. With clenched teeth, Chris pumped his legs as fast as he could go, charging the tail end of the infected as the thing tried to escape the building. He couldn't imagine _why and how_ the B.O.W. got here in the first place—was it after him only because he was the (now infamous) Chris Redfield? It wouldn't be a big of a surprise as any.

Snatching his pistol from his side, Redfield lifted his arm to aim—only for the creature to snap to the left, avoiding his sight altogether. Growling, Chris hauled ass after it, realizing the thing heavily resembled a human being. That meant this B.O.W. wasn't lab-bred, but rather a person who'd gotten infected and essentially wasn't the source. In addition, the said infected somehow knew this was a BSAA training facility—there'd been no reports on sighted B.O.W.'s in the area, otherwise they would've been warned before the things even reached Chris' small platoon.

_It looks heavy on one side_, he continued to think, _its arm looks like—_

The floor beneath the rushing infected suddenly gave way, opening a hole that was too large for the Captain to avoid as he tumbled into the pit with the creature. Landing hard on the person, his pistol shot from his grip, bouncing away into the falling rubble as dust sprinkled over them. Before Chris could react, the creature rolled with him, landing directly on top as his other hand—a human hand—latched onto Redfield's throat. A growl ripped from the B.O.W.'s lips as Chris grabbed the choking hand, his eyes widening when he saw—

_Piers._

Then suddenly, it didn't matter that he was being choked.

Memories, like a riptide, flooded back unceremoniously with all the dark and painful emotions to accompany them. Piers. Piers Nivans. _The one I left behind_.

Chris strangled to whisper his name, his fingers still weakly trying to pry the sniper's grip from his neck. Watery eyes stared up at the younger agent for a couple moments before Piers' enraged expression cooled and his grasp slowly loosened. Panting, his remaining (good) eye blinked in startled recognition, Nivans settling back on his haunches so Redfield could sit up.

"Piers," gasped the Captain, rubbing his neck dolefully, "Piers...do you...do you recognize me?"

The sniper didn't answer right away, looking lost and uncertain in his sudden predicament.

"_Piers_, looks at me," said Chris softly, reaching out to touch his mangled shoulder.

Nivans snarled as he lunged back with bared teeth, snapping, "_Don't touch me!_"

Lifting his open hands, Redfield said, "It's okay, it's okay." Slowly, he managed to get to his feet without startling the younger (if not water logged) male, trying to look as open as humanly possible. "It's okay, Piers. Do you remember me?"

"I…" he started, his breaths rolling out dismally, "I...just…"

Despite the situation, Chris' heart was practically singing. _Piers is still alive_. He couldn't help but feeling overly hopeful, knowing they had the vaccine for the c-virus, knowing that he could still be _saved_.

"Piers," murmured Chris again, taking a small step towards him, "look at me, lieutenant."

With a displaced look, Nivans' neck and shoulder twitched as he glanced at the Captain. His arm was still sparking with the electricity Chris remembered from all those months ago—really, how could he forget?—and it was sticky with blood, as though it was trying to heal itself from the beating it got from being underwater for so long. As a matter of fact, the virus coursing through Piers' veins was returning the life at him, one pore at a time, some blue and red flushing against his skin.

"Do you remember me…?" asked Redfield again.

Piers stared at him, his mouth slightly open, as his left eye took in Chris' details. Releasing a short breath, he replied, "C...Captain…?"

"That's right," answered the other male, a small smile breaking across his lips as he continued to approach the sniper. "That's absolutely right. I know it seems a little strange, you might not remember what happened, but...well...but I'm here to help you."

Glancing down, Piers glanced at his infected arm and, as though seeing it for the first time, revolted in disgust. "Captain!" he exclaimed, lifting the mangled limb in horror.

"It's okay!" yelled Chris, jerking to a stop before stepping forward again. "It's okay, Piers, don't worry about it, don't even _look _at it."

Swinging his attention towards Redfield again, lines of fear drawn across his features, Nivans said, "I'm...I'm infected, I'm—!"

"It's okay, we got a vaccine," said the Captain hastily. His stomach was tied into a thousand knots; he had to do this _right_, otherwise Piers might take off and never show back up on the radar again until it was too late. "Don't even worry about that, okay? Just…" he swallowed, hard. "Just come here…"

Awareness returning to him, the sniper clutched his stomach with his good arm as a stifled, frightful sound escaped him. Chris could see his eye gleam over with tears, still gaping in terror at his own blighted limb. Using the distraction to his advantage, the Captain stopped and leaned forward, ever so slowly, to grab Piers' trembling human hand. Snapping his spooked gaze down, Nivans watched with an ounce of hesitation as Redfield gradually brought the sniper's cold hand into his own.

"See? It's okay," whispered Chris, offering his friend a smile, "everything's going to be alright."

Continuing to be as gradual as possible—he was already this far, he only had a little further to go—he tugged Piers closer to him. He knew if he could just get the boy under the shelter of his shoulder, he could—

"_Captain!_"

Gasping, the quiet mood shattered, both Redfield and Nivans jerked their attention to the right where Anders popped out from the shadows with an aimed M-16. Yanking his hand from Chris' grip, the sniper roared with discontent before lunging upwards, again and again until he broke through onto the roof.

"_No, Piers!_"

Anders tackled Chris out of the way from the cascading rubble, just in time before a large chunk of concrete cracked against the floor. A minute passed as they waited for the dust to settle, before the Captain stood up with a growl. _Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

Clamoring back to his feet, Anders said, "Captain, are you—?"

"I _almost fucking had him_," hissed Redfield as he patted his face free from the dust, spinning on his heel with frustration, "_I almost had him!_"

—


	2. Riptide

_Author's Note:_ Thank you for the comments, dears! Hope you like this chapter, too :)

_Disclaimer_: I do not own RE.

_Chapter 2_: Riptide

Piers Nivans struggled for his breath as he slowly crawled under a mossy, rock overhang.

Rain pitter-pattered against the forest floor as he dragged himself and his filthy, diseased arm and painfully leaned against the dry earth, his muscles twitching every now and then as he tried to calm down. Then again—he just tore across the California landscape, traveling clear from San Diego to north of Sacramento without stopping. It was a miracle he was still alive—

Well, he was supposed to be dead, like...forever ago.

He _should've _been fish food at the bottom of the Tatchi harbor right now, but where was he? Lumping around Jackson State Forest, pathetically trying to avoid being caught by the BSAA (which was a joke, considering they were the best in the world at catching terrorists). But, while it was nighttime and he had a chance to catch his breath, he just needed to stop and mope for a few minutes.

After all...the only person who he...the one other person in this whole world he could hope to trust...was…

**Hey, **_**you're**_ **the one who threw a fit and ran away.**

Jerking upright, Piers gasped as he shoved himself further under the overhang, wondering where the voice materialized from. Panting, desperately searching the environment with partial vision, he snarled, "Who's there!"

**It's me, dumbass.**

"That's not much to go off of!" he yelled back, grunting when his right arm convulsed unnaturally. Pinning the mangled thing to his side with his one good hand, he looked around again. He didn't see anything, but then again—

**You know, **_**you**_**.**

Glancing to his right, Piers jolted with surprise when—of all the things in the world to hallucinate—he saw _himself_. Taking a second to gather himself again, Nivans swallowed the lump in his dry throat and said, "I take it the virus got to my head. Literally."

The "other" Piers shrugged, offering a slanted smirk. **Well, does it matter? You're alive and still gunning for the good ol' Captain, I see.**

Okay, he was _definitely_ losing his mind. He wouldn't be surprised if the c-virus was eating straight through whatever sanity he had left, which meant it would probably be too late for the vaccine anyways.

**The Captain doesn't have to know that,** answered the hallucination pointedly, wiggling his own mutated arm in emphasis. **Think about it. Sweet death. It's the last thing we can ask for.**

"Wh...what? Sweet death?" repeated the sniper as he struggled to keep his right arm from twitching out of control. With a tight jaw, he sunk his fingernails into the red flesh, hoping the pain would be enough to _cut the power_, so to speak. "Why does that sound familiar?"

**Cause it is. Remember? It was a little thing going around the troops for awhile. **_**Sweet death**_**. The best kind of death to have,** laughed not-Piers as he relaxed against the rock wall.

Nivans couldn't help but be a little annoyed by the fact that his own delusion was more calm and under control than he was—but he supposed that was to be expected. The very thing he wanted was out of reach.

"Sweet death…" mumbled the young sniper, then his eye widened and he stared at the other. "You mean...death while having _sex_?"

_**That's **_**the one,** answered the hallucination, pointing a finger at the sky.

"What...with _who_?" he asked, before the dawning realization hit him hard. "No way, _not _the Captain! He's the only one trying to _help_ me!"

**Hey, he's **_**your **_**fantasy, just as **_**I'm**_ **your delusion,** chuckled not-Piers as he glanced over, **I'm just that petty thing called a subconscious telling you before it's too late. Get room service, **_**then**_ **check out. You know, it's the one thing they can give you after the time and service you put in. Especially since...**_**you saved the Captain's life**_**.**

"That's _besides_ the point," scoffed Nivans, despite the heat that was rising to his cheeks. "I didn't _do_ it for any of those reasons! That, and I highly doubt he'll get _turned on_ by the squiggly arm!"

**Hey, that **_**squiggly arm**_ **saved his life and stopped a certain **_**impending doom**_ **from ending all life as we know it! And, if you didn't notice, he wasn't all that concerned about the infection anyways. He's gotten vaccinated by this point—remember that merc with the mouth on him? Jake What's-His-Face? His antibodies probably have put the damper on the big c-virus scare, as it is. **When the "real" Piers didn't answer, his hallucination continued, **And anyways, this isn't fresh news. That first time, after the whole Marhawa thing, the first **_**real**_ **mission you had with the Captain?**

"What about it?" asked the sniper gruffly.

**Well, after you were back on base and snug in your bed, you weren't exactly denying your fantasy then—**

Nivans gasped. "_Shut up!_"

—**I mean, you came **_**a lot**_ **for just wanking off to the thought of sucking his nipples—**

"_Dammit, I said shut up!_"

Piers' voice rang through the forest, causing a wave of birds to leap from their homes. Panting again, Nivans clutched his infected arm tighter against his stomach. The rain was still coming down in torrents, but that didn't keep his thoughts from lingering on what not-Piers had pointed out. Okay, _yes_...he did have his little go-to fantasy when he needed it, and _yes_, instead of just a handsome, faceless body it _was_ the Captain, but...he'd never intended to get that close. After all, Chris Redfield wasn't exactly known for being dateable. He'd spent time with some of the most beautiful women Piers had laid eyes on (especially that African chick, Sheva), and Chris hadn't slept with _any _of them. The Redfields were all about business, anyways, and he doubted the Captain would reciprocate any feelings.

**Does it matter?** the voice temptingly whispered, sending a cold shiver down Piers' back. **You'll be dead soon. He could be the last taste of pleasure you'll be able to have before the virus **_**really**_ **starts killing you.**

"I…" mumbled Nivans, shaking his head. "I...can't…"

**Why not?** murmured his own voice. **Just a kiss, even. To finally be able to breathe him in. Taste him.**

Piers' eye flickered closed, still hugging himself as he depicted that same image he'd done so many times before. Nivans would tug at the Captain's tight BSAA uniform shirt, pulling it up right above his nipples. His fingers would find the buttons of his cargo pants, undressing each one at a time as Chris' bulge pressed lovingly against the fabric.

**Just one time.**

The sniper's mouth would then go for the left nipple first, his tongue dancing across the rosy circle as his Captain would release a thick moan in response, unable to stop himself…then, Piers would press his knee in between the larger male's thighs as he would bring his lips to settle on Redfield's.

**A sweet death.**

That kiss would be drugging—he would pry open Chris' mouth with his teeth, delving in for the real gold as his hot breath exhaled against the other's. _So good._ Their tongues would fold together, their saliva mixing and he would feel his own member hardening with anticipation. Chris would release another soft moan, and a lustful coil of heat would spiral into Nivans' groin from the sweet noise.

**Take him.**

Using his free hand, Piers' would grab that same, enticing nipple and pinch it in between his fingers, rewarding him with a small gasp and Chris's chiseled stomach arching against him. Then, while his Captain was still suspended, the sniper would smooth his palm down Chris' back, beneath his pants and beneath his boxer briefs, cupping one ass cheek in his hand.

**Take what you know is yours.**

Pressing his throbbing penis against Chris', he would roll his hips forward oh-so-perfectly. The sniper would then smile at the feeling of his Captain's muscles clenching in suspense, his sole attention on the two fingers which were steadily crawling to his entrance. And then...

Taking a deep breath, Piers snapped himself from the daydream which had sucked him in so easily. Alright, so maybe he was going mad and losing his head, but at least his groin was still human and, as much as the goody-two-shoes lieutenant who once existed would never think of crossing that line...

Maybe, just maybe, his delusion was right...

—

"You have _got _to give me a chance," insisted an ever-growing frustrated Redfield as he leaned against the oak desk. "I _had him_ and I could easily administered the dose until he got spooked and took off! Just let me go to him and do this."

The Head of the Department, Amanda Caio (a.k.a. General Hardass) across the desk stared up at him with a pointed glare over her thick-rimmed glasses, her scowl as deadly as ever. "And I suppose you're just going to _waltz _right up to him and he's going to faint into your arms, am I right?"

Chris thought for a brief moment before he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, right after I give him the dose!"

"And you're not worried _at all_ that he might fry you like a chicken egg before you can even get twenty feet close?" She went on, crossing her legs.

With a locked jaw, the Captain took in a deep breath. He was trying to avoid pulling _I-made-this-organization-try-and-tell-me-what-to-do_ card, especially because he wanted to go at this alone. "You don't understand, _ma'am_, I had _his_ hand in _my_ hand and I would've been able to safely escort him to base if Anders hadn't _burst in—_"

"—And probably saved your life," she snapped, tugging off her glasses and tossing them on the desk. "Captain Redfield, you might not think your life is worth much, but for the BSAA, it is worth quite a lot—"

"—I couldn't have guessed in Africa—"

"—_And as much as I understand your concern,_" she stressed as Chris whirled about in aggravation, "Piers Nivans was labeled deceased _3 months ago_. After he became a B.O.W.—"

"_He's not a B.O.W.!_" cried the Captain as he swung back around, two hands slamming against the desk. "He's a damn _hero! _He's sacrificed _everything_ so Haos couldn't get to the surface! He injected himself with a virus _we can cure!_"

Silence descended on the pair again, the afternoon San Diego sun filtering through the partially closed blinds. Director Ciao stared straight into Chris' dark brown eyes for a long, drawn-out moment as she pressed her cherry red lips together in thought.

"I started the BSAA with the _sole purpose_ of keeping people _alive_. Both Piers and I have given much more than anyone would've ask for. We did what needed to get done," he said firmly in the quiet office. "Is it so much to ask for to give me the chance to get him back?"

Another tense moment passed, and then Ciao sighed.

"I can't..." she started, her blue eyes becoming soft, "make any promises to give you adequate protection."

The Captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you—"

"This is entirely _your_ operation," stated the woman as she stabbed a knife of a finger at him. "Outside of the lines. One vial of the antidote. No report. No briefing. No support."

Chris straightened, his sense of determination that she'd only seen since Piers was still here shine through. Loyalty. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll get him back. I'm made of tougher stuff than you think."

Ciao sighed. "I certainly hope so, Captain."

—

A/N: Hopefully no-one was weirded out by not-Piers XD Thank you for reading!


	3. Whirlpool

_Author's Note_: Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own RE.

_Chapter 3_: Whirlpool

"This is a bad idea," mumbled Anders, shaking his head, "as a matter of fact, this is like _the cornerstone_ of all bad ideas. Iced over with a really bad chance of actually working."

_Well, it wouldn't have been this way if you hadn't scared him, _thought Chris begrudgingly. Of course, he couldn't blame Anders—if the Captain had been in the same position, he would've done no different. Anders was doing exactly what he was trained for: protecting a fellow soldier from (what looked like) a threat. So, as frustrated as he was about the whole situation, well...

"Piers is still Piers. He'll listen to me," answered Chris soundly, feeling confident he was right. Like the director said, it'd been three months. Three whole months to totally turn, but he didn't (granted, he'd probably been asleep the whole time), so if the sniper just held out a bit longer...

"Yeah, well, let's hope the M.R.E. will hold his attention long enough for you to stab him with the antidote," grumbled the young lieutenant as he turned the colossal HUMVEE onto the quiet, dirt road.

Nivans had been spotted near Fort Bragg, booking it into the safe confines of Jackson State Forest a day or so ago. Fortunately, Ciao had kept her bargain and denied any other OPS access into the forest until the Captain could get his sole chance to either be electrified into Kentucky Fried Chris or come out with Piers safely, minus a fleshy appendage.

By this time, however, Redfield had been hoping to have come up with a better plan than to _hope_ Piers would listen to him, and if not, then maybe he was hungry and just needed some over processed chicken dumplings. Yet, with the way things were turning out—and the fact he wasn't going to get _any_ support—it was turning out it might actually be an idea. After all, sitting at Bikini Bottom for three months probably had his stomach trying to eat itself (c-virus aside).

"I'm actually surprised in the Director," said Anders suddenly, adjusting himself in the driver's seat.

Chris offered him an uneasy glance. "Why's that?"

The lieutenant shrugged, murmuring, "You know...she's called General _Hardass _for a reason...and especially since Piers showed up so close to the base...and then he scared the britches off the people who were cleaning up the wreckage in China...I dunno, it just seems like she gave in a little too fast for me."

Returning his attention to the bumpy, branch-cluttered road, Redfield scowled. He had a point. Too caught up in the fact that Piers had resurfaced, he failed to realize Ciao might've been just giving him what he wanted so he'd show up...and so that Nivans would, too. _Great_.

"Stop the truck," he muttered.

Anders switched a surprised gaze at him. "Right here?"

"Yup," answered the Captain, already opening the door.

The young lieutenant jerked to a halt, the HUMVEE swinging from the force. Chris hopped out onto his feet and, turning to Anders, instructed, "Just keep going. I'll radio when I've administered the dose."

"You sure about this? I mean, even _if _Ciao was lying, you'd at least have backup…" said Anders with a worried note. He was staring at his Captain with those same puppy eyes Piers used to—when Chris was about to do something stupid.

But that was the usual routine, anyway.

"She doesn't want to give me backup, she wants to get the jump on Piers," returned Redfield with a bite in his tone. "The only reason she let _me_ go is she thinks I'll draw him out."

The lieutenant didn't relinquish his anxious look. "Well...I mean—"

"Trust me, Anders," said Chris, then tilted his chin down and stared up at his friend. "_Do_ you trust me?"

Pausing, the lieutenant finally released a heavy, reluctant sigh as though certain he would regret his decision later. "I trust you, sir."

"Then do this for me. I'll call you when I'm done," murmured the older agent before shutting the metal door closed.

Hopping out of sight of the road, he urged Anders to move with the thrust of his arm forward. Still unsure, the young gunner petered forward before finally gathering speed as he drove deeper into the forest. Chris, now put at ease being by himself, adjusted his flak jacket and all his tiny pockets (being unarmed besides his Bowie knife), particularly the one with the antidote. One vial. One shot. He could do this.

Licking his lips, the soldier hunched down and jogged into the vegetation, taking in the California spring air with large breaths. The dawn was just breaking, the sun not yet crested over the horizon, and the world was in a surreal state of being just beyond the thrall of night and awakening to the morning. The trees, the birds and everything else was silent or cooing; dew was sticking to the green leaves and long strands of grass like crystal gems. It was, honestly, a very pretty morning—but Chris' thoughts were whirling around Piers like a manic, broken carousel and he wouldn't break free until he had the young sniper where he should be: safely back in the BSAA, where he belonged.

Even if he had to bend the rules a little...but they should've been used to him doing _that_ by now.

Shoving away branches and bushes alike, Redfield grunted as he pushed through the thick vegetation with annoyance.

"Sonuvabitch," he growled, reaching for his Bowie knife. Stupid plants. Even Africa wasn't this bad—but then again, he was used to running around elaborate mansions or stony, underground passageways or even lava factories like a chicken with his head cut off.

Chris blinked. _Man, what was it with me and chickens? Ever since Ciao said I would be fried like one, I keep thinking about them…_

Well, it wasn't important.

What was _more_ urgent was how he was going to get Nivans' attention. Although hopefully Piers had noticed the HUMVEE entering the forest, who's to say he wasn't already traveling farther up north? If he was still as human as Redfield hoped he was, then it would be logical to stay in a place like this, where the trees were so close together that even camping families wouldn't tread. Staying away from human interaction and waiting for the Captain to arrive. He already knew Chris wanted to help him. Made sense.

But, if the virus…

"Shut up, Chris," grumbled the heavy male as he continued to wade through the bushes. Piers was a tough kid—he put up with the Captain at his worst for weeks on end, after all.

Motivated, hopeful, Chris plunged further into the dense forest. Fifteen stretched, pant-filled minutes passed and finally, the sun broke over the purple hills and through the sticky mist.

That's when Redfield heard a hard, heavy _thud_ behind him.

Swirling around, he was jarred to a stop by a rough shove to his shoulder, making him stumble against a coarse pine. Grunting, he went to reach for his Bowie knife when his ears picked up a haggard, raspy breathing.

"Piers...?" murmured the Captain slowly, placing his palms flat against the scraggy bark.

"I don't want..." heaved the lieutenant, "I don't want you to look at me..."

Blinking, Chris darted his attention to the ground, seeing Nivans' poor, mangled limb buzzing with electricity out of his peripheral. Turning his brown eyes back to his hands, Redfield pursed his lips, trying to figure out the best course of action.

That's when Piers murmured lowly, "They've been following you…"

Chris' heart clenched in his chest reflexively, but he kept his cool and said, "The BSAA…?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Piers, they...that damn Caio is out for herself," he snapped with aggravation. As soon as he got back to the headquarters with a healed Nivans in hand, he was going to flip her desk right out of the building. "I'll protect you, I promise."

The young lieutenant didn't say anything right away, rather, shifted his hand so that it wasn't digging into Chris' shoulder and curled it around his abdomen.

"There's a HUMVEE on the other side…" he finally whispered, leaning into the Captain's form, "let's wait for it to pass."

Gingerly, Redfield leaned around the tree, barely enough to see the truck's antennas springing up just beyond the bushy ridge, maybe twenty yards away. Even now, Piers was still looking out for him. Ducking behind the safety of the thick pine, and with Piers' arm hugging their bodies together, he wondered...steadily, the Captain reached for one of his many breast pockets for the precious vial. He had to be _lightning fast _if he was going to get this on the first try.

"Captain..." the lieutenant whispered, his tone husky.

"Everything is going to work out, Piers..." said Chris softly, tugging at the Velcro flap of the pocket. So close...

Redfield froze, body and mind, when he suddenly noticed Nivans' hand smoothing dangerously low. _What is he doing?_ Piers was silent, betraying nothing as his legs pressed to the back of his Captain's, his chest flush against the larger male. Somewhere between baffled and disbelieving, Chris did nothing but watch as the young lieutenant's fingers fiddled with his utility belt, unclipping it. Then he went for the tan buttons, picking them apart one at a time until the only thing covering the Captain's junk was his boxer briefs.

For some reason, it was that moment that Redfield's mind rebooted and his thoughts fired all at once. "Wh—what're you—s, stop—_Piers_!"

"Quiet...you don't want them to find us, do you?" murmured Nivans with an infuriatingly calm tone.

_How am I supposed to stay quiet...?_ Especially when the younger soldier was digging eagerly into his pants, his fingers gently inspecting his dick. Chris tried to pry Piers' hand away, but a gasp escaped when he caressed a sensitive area. A hot shiver raked up the elder's spine, his teeth clenching as smooth fingertips roved over the material of his underwear.

Without meaning to, Chris was suddenly sporting a hard-on as small, hushed pants filled the silent landscape.

"Piers..." he whispered, swallowing hard. "Get a hold of yourself..."

"Actually...I would like to get a hold of you," returned Nivans. Then, in an instant, Piers' hand slipped beneath the elastic band of Chris's briefs, his warm palm wrapping around the Captain's receptive member.

A slight moan dashed from Redfield's lips, his shoulders bunching up as he leaned heavier against the tree in front of him. _Not good. This is not good._ He didn't know what got into Piers, but if he tried to stop him, he might take off...or he might try to struggle, where the hiding HUMVEE around the corner was just _waiting_ for something to happen. _So then what do I do?!_

To make matters worse, the young sniper was getting deeper in the mood, if the shallow, wispy breaths against Redfield's ear said anything. Piers adjusted his footing, shifting his infected arm to prop up against the tree. Chris could care less, though, paying far more attention to the fingers frisking around his twitching dick that was getting harder by the second. The Captain would never admit it, but the kid was actually pretty good—

"Piers—!" exclaimed Redfield when the lieutenant pushed deeper in between his thighs.

"Sh-sh...they're listening."

"Y...you're...why are you doing this?!"

"I don't want this virus...or BSAA bureaucrats to dictate when my time ends...I want you...I've always wanted to be with you..." his words tugged at the Captain's heart strings, despite himself, "and I want to be with you till the end."

Legs tensing, a rousing blush crept over Chris' cheeks as Piers lined the crack between his butt cheeks with a single finger. His flushed member was exposed to the open air, a line of clear liquid dribbling to the forest floor. Alright, so maybe it'd been a century since he'd gotten any action, and maybe that's why his body felt like it was on fire, but—but—_this was crazy!_ With that, plus Piers' hard groin stuffed against his butt, his mind was a thousand miles away from everything else except the sniper's talented hand.

Pressing tender kisses against the nape of the Captain's neck, Piers retreated his hand only to tug Chris' combat pants down. As the brisk air touched the exposed, hot skin, the elder shivered and put a hand over his own mouth just in case. _This is crazy, this is crazy, this is cr—_

And then Redfield felt it.

A long, throbbing member was cradled by his butt cheeks, hard and burning and eager as Piers gently brushed it downwards, fitting it between the Captain's thighs.

_He's not serious...?!_

Leaning back, Nivans' devouring gaze roved over his superior's perfect, round backside. He was practically salivating as he pushed one cheek to the side, making Chris jolt with anticipation. Tongue lolling out, the young lieutenant pushed his thumb inside, causing a delicious, muffled cry from the Captain. Fingers swept over his elder's balls as he pushed his thumb deeper, stroking the sensitive internal wall. Redfield was a mess of quivering nerves, fighting the instinct to rock his hips back and forth. Piers was _way_ too good at this, if Chris' strangled whimpers proved anything.

"You're tight..." whispered the younger soldier, his tone dripping with desire. "Is this your first time?"

"Gh...gah! Nnh!"

"I suppose that means yes..."

Watery blue eyes shot a glare over his shoulder, Nivans chuckling with satisfaction. Dropping his head again, Chris twitched and shuddered at the ministrations, wanting it to stop and go on forever at the same time. His hips were melting, his heavy frame clenching with impatience, wanting the soldier's mind to give up and give in. The thick scent of musk hanging in the air, Piers' thumb brushing against the sweet spot, his fingers cradling the older man's underside was almost too much...

Pulling his thumb out, Piers gripped the Captain's entrance open as he nudged the tip of his dick against the lips. Briefly holding their breath, the sniper firmly drove his member into Chris, causing Redfield to smother an outcry. The lieutenant paused briefly for any changes in the environment, but everything remained still and quiet.

"Sh-sh…" whispered Nivans.

"Gah...nn...!" Chris wasn't really paying attention. _H-he's inside me...!_ Stiff and still probing deeper, it was hard to keep his wobbling legs from turning into Jell-o and collapsing. _Oh, _god_, he's inside me!_

"This feels..." gasped the lieutenant, "almost too good."

Chris couldn't begin to answer, even if he had something good to say. All that came out were trembling pants, a choked moan spilling out when Piers curled a hand around his erect dick again. Gently, he started to pump against the Captain, deliberately making smooth, long strokes of his hand and his hips. Heady, Redfield placed one hand over the other on the tree trunk and pressed his forehead to his hands, a safety measure so he wouldn't clock his head against the hard bark.

In the meantime, Nivans hips jerked forward and back with convicted thrusts, drinking in the elder as if he'd never get enough. Chris was nearly sitting on him, Piers keeping him pinned from the front and the behind. Grunting with each intense drive, the Captain's thoughts were lost in a world of hazy, needy pleasure as he curled his back, finally giving in. If he had to pick anyone, it would be Piers each and every time...he just never expected it to be _right here, right now. _

The minutes melted away as Nivans endlessly grilled him, his speed escalating as Chris' body sang with joy. Panting wildly with each rough plow, Redfield removed one hand from pressing against the tree so he could cup Piers' hand as he pumped him.

"Captain...I...want to...nn...cum inside you," murmured the sniper in a throaty tone.

"N...no...!" His mouth was spewing out words, but at the thought of Nivans' burning seed filling him up, the Captain seized. Cupping his mouth just in time to hush a pleasure-filled cry, Chris sensed something hot pooling into his stomach as white ejaculated onto the tree in front of him. The heavenly orgasm was raw and rocked his trembling body, whatever energy he had twenty seconds ago vanishing in an enticing, sweaty moan.

Breathless, together both men sagged to their knees, the sniper still buried inside his Captain. Even his hand was still wrapped around Redfield's slick rod, as though he was intent for round two.

_No, I have to...give him the antidote!_ His senses temporarily returned, Chris reached for the vial again. They could do this all night and day once Nivans was cured, but his life was seriously in danger—

"Take off your flak jacket," instructed Piers softly. Using his forefinger, he gently stroked the tip of the elder's cock, enticing it to reignite the fire.

Gasping, Chris fumbled for his pocket, his fingers digging inside for the small syringe. The Captain made for like he was going to remove his protective gear, when instead he used his teeth to pop off the orange cap. He quietly spat it out, Piers not even flinching when the plastic bounced off a root and into the adjacent, prickly bush. Rather, the sniper released Redfield's dick and lifted his hands, pushing two fingers in between his thick lips for Chris to taste. _That's not fair._ The wet fingers played with his tongue lovingly, Chris nearly losing himself again. Salty...sticky...and there was something else, the smell of sex making him moan with need. It was good..._really_ good...

_No! _Jamming his eyes shut, the man stabbed Piers' forearm with the needle and injected the serum.

Behind him, Nivans gasped, not in pleasure, but in fear. Withdrawing his hand immediately, the sniper stared in horror at the thing as Chris swiveled around. The Captain's heart was pinched with distress at the lieutenant's terrified expression, his hand reaching out to take the younger soldier's shoulder.

"C-Captain...?!" cried Piers, collapsing onto his back.

Lifting himself from the sniper's hips (and sensing something leak out), Chris stumbled to Nivans' side, one powerful arm cradling his smaller shoulders.

"It's the cure," said Redfield swiftly, tugging his pants up as he did so. "But we need to get you out of here before they find us."

Fastening one button and his utility belt over his still-taught member, Chris then redressed Piers, blushing madly at the thought of what the sniper just did to him. He had to wonder whether these feelings were just from the virus, or if he'd been smitten with the Captain from the start. With everything that happened, the older man was leaning to the latter explanation.

"I had...no clue you felt that way about me," murmured the Captain, keeping his voice low.

Nivans' one still-working eye flicked up at him, before a small smile crept over his lips. "I'm sorry for being...so rough..."

Chris shook his head. "I'm glad to see the virus didn't steal your vim and vigor."

A frail laugh filled the air, Piers' head lulling towards the older man as Redfield scooted closer. Slipping his arms beneath the sniper's slack form, he curled his hands around his knees and shoulders and bunched Nivans to his body. With his left arm pressed against the flat wall of Chris' chest, his infected arm hung loose in front of them, heavy and useless. Piers desperately wished he could cut the horrendous thing off, and by the time his disgust was realized, he also didn't want to get any of his..._arm fluids_ on the Captain.

"I can...walk," he murmured hoarsely, trying to push against Redfield's broad shoulders.

Yet, Chris only squeezed his partner closer, his firm biceps and forearms keeping Nivans pinned to his frame. "I don't think so," retorted the older agent softly, "I let you yank your hand from me last time _and_ the time before that. Therefore, you've lost your walking privileges."

Piers really couldn't argue with that one. As the Captain quietly marched in the opposite direction of the HUMVEE, Piers peered up at Chris' scruffy chin, the line of his powerful neck, his focused blue eyes as they scanned the cluttered forest. Eyelid drooping with exhaustion, Nivans pressed his cheek in the crescent of the Captain's shoulder, a measure of relief overcoming him. Maybe it was the antidote flooding his system, or the warmth radiating from Chris' skin, or the refreshing scent of the Captain's _Irish Spring_. Whatever the case, the young soldier suddenly didn't want him to let go at all…

"Stop."

Redfield swore.

Jerking in surprise, Piers made to confront the threat when the Captain held him even tighter. "Don't move," he growled, his voice just above a whisper.

They were surrounded in a matter of seconds by their own personnel, M16's held in a defensive position as a truck roared over the brush and slid to a stop in front of them. Chris glared at each and every one, making some glance at each other with apprehension. If Caio was going to make this hard, the Captain could play the same game…

"Captain," murmured the Director, clad with her own pistol and flak jacket over her business attire.

"Caio," he grumbled dangerously.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_ Anyone who wanted Piers on the bottom will get their cake and eat it, too, I promise XD Thanks for reading!


	4. Horizon

_Author's Note:_ Thank you for the great comments! Love you guys!

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own RE.

_Chapter 4_: Horizon

The auburn-haired woman puckered her lips in thought at him, her eyes absorbing the strange situation in front of her. After a moment of mental debate with herself, she heaved a sigh. "Alright, well, _once again_ you're right, Captain. Let's get him back to the base for medical care."

Everyone in the loop, including Chris, stared at her with plate-sized eyes. Glaring at them, she exclaimed, "_What?_ I'm not _that_ heartless! Get them in the HUMVEE and let's get out of here."

The troop mobilized, Chris still gripping Nivans as though someone might walk up to him and snatch the sniper away. Piers buried his face against the larger male's shoulder, using his left hand to hide his mangled face. The embarrassment and vulnerability in front of the Captain was enough to choke the life out of him as it was, let alone the _whole damn platoon_. He could sense their gazes briefly sweep over him in uncertainty and reluctance and feel their shivers as the glimpsed at his arm.

_Disgusting._

Redfield lifted himself and the now-trembling Nivans into the back of the cluttered HUMVEE, settling on top of a field bag as he adjusted his seating. A quiet agent shut the doors behind him and slapped the side of the truck, signaling a go for the driver. Lurching forward, they sped back into civilization. Chris lifted his knee to prop up Piers' legs up, noticing the lieutenant using his good hand to block the view of his face. Frowning, the Captain wrapped his fingers around his hand, straining against Nivans to reveal his face again.

"Don't look at me," whispered Piers with a wavering voice, "please."

Aware the two soldiers in the front could hear them, Chris dipped down and murmured, "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm filthy, Captain—"

"Piers," he said firmly, brown eyes going hard, "you've got the cure in you already, and by tonight, you'll look like your old self again...like I said, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

Gazing up at the reassuring expression Redfield offered and how tight he was clutching Nivans' hand, the sniper sensed relief flood him. With a hard swallow, Piers let it go, shutting his one useful eye closed. The soft vibrations and white noise from the drive was as relaxing as settling in Chris' arms, and he was in and out of a worn-out sleep until the moment when the truck squeaked to a stop and the back doors swung open again. Squinting at the wave of sudden, blinding light, Chris released Nivans' hand to bundle his knees up again and lift them both out of the back.

When a gurney was strolled out to meet them, terror clapped into the sniper at the thought of being separated from the older agent. Quickly, he slung his left arm around Chris' neck as he gasped and protested, the Captain stumbling at his partner's struggling.

"_No!_"

"—I'll take him up," said Redfield quickly, turning away from the white-clad doctors.

Chris had no intention of going anywhere, but he didn't expect Piers to contest like that. Of course, he couldn't blame him—being still half-aware after three months of rotting at the bottom of the ocean with the c-virus in him was a sight to behold, and doctors might be tempted to poke and prod where they shouldn't.

But the Captain wasn't going to abandon Nivans, especially now. _No-one _would get their grubby hands on his partner without Redfield watching like a cracked-out hawk.

Caio led the way as they entered the military hospital, through back-door hallways and up dusty stairs, rather than using the front entrance. Not once did the Director glance at him or Piers, her expression stony and no-nonsense, as usual. She brought them to a single room with a king-sized bed, filled from floor-to-ceiling with all sorts of cold, elaborate medical machinery, allowing them to go inside by themselves. The only thing _not_ grim and unfeeling was the large window thrown to the farthest wall which faced an eternal, brilliant ocean just on their doorstep.

As Chris settled Piers to the bed, the lieutenant still seemed wary and reluctant to let go, a slight protest escaping him.

"I'm not going to be even five feet from you," assured the Captain as he smoothed a hand around Nivans' neck, "I'll be right here."

Piers nodded, but seemed less than convinced. It wasn't Chris he was worried about, but...

Suddenly, the door clicked open, Caio reappearing as a slew of nurses and white-clad doctors poured into the room behind her. Before Nivans knew it, the medics were pushing him down, urging him to lay flat on the bed as they clipped his clothing away. Chris was booted to the sidelines, standing beside Caio with worry plastered all over his face. As he did so, the woman shoved a bunch of clothing to his chest.

As Redfield took it, Caio murmured, "I doubt you'll need your combat gear. Keep me posted on any changes."

Eyebrows furrowed, the heavy male stated, "Anders..."

"Don't worry about him, I already radioed him to turn around. Nice attempt at a sneaky move," she taunted, but it was half-hearted. When Chris didn't answer, she pursed her lips as she watched him staring intently at his partner squirming on the bed. "Keep me in the loop."

"Wait—" said Chris, then, although he still didn't look at her. "I don't get it...why didn't you…?"

Caio's eyelashes swept down as she peered at the limp lieutenant on the bed. "It's as you said...he sacrificed everything..."

A heavy silence filled the space between them, before he nodded and she disappeared with temperate steps. As Piers was dotted with IVs and electrodes, wires crossed over his frame like slithering, plastic white snakes and the machines around him were summoned to life. Nivans continued to compliantly lay there and Chris' heart tightened with pain. Piers seemed exhausted, his skin becoming a ghostly pale, the blotches of purple and blue blood standing out more than ever. After what felt like an eternity, the doctors swept from the room as quickly as they arrived.

Piers glanced sadly at Chris, the very look of a broken heart as a trace of a smile graced his lips. "How do I look?" he asked through his oxygen mask.

A grin dawned on Redfield's features as he drew in close, settling to his knees. "Like a sleeping beauty."

The sniper answered with a raspy, small laugh. "You're something else, Captain...are you ever going to take off that flak jacket for me...?"

"I suppose I'm out of character," said the larger male. Pulling at the velcro around his waist, he pushed the heavy thing over his shoulders and against the wall. Then, he peeled away the sweaty second-skin navy shirt from his frame and tossed it over the flak jacket.

Unfolding the black t-shirt Caio gave him, he glared at it. "This thing is huge!"

"_You're _huge, Captain," said Piers, his hazel eyes glazing over Chris' bare chest. And he was, even if he wouldn't admit it, his pecks and chiseled abs more delicious than Nivans could even dream of. If he could, the young soldier wished he could stare at Redfield forever. Every morning when they woke up, every evening when they went to bed and all the tiny moments in between...

As Chris tugged the dark material over the rippling muscle and over his giant arms, the fantasy blurred from Piers' thoughts. Leaning over the bed once more, the heavier male shrugged, "I guess you're right. I'm bigger than I thought I was."

"They call you Captain Bearfield for a reason," joked the sniper as he adjusted his oxygen mask. For some reason, he felt far weaker than he did before...maybe it was because he didn't have a reason to run or hide or fight anymore, but the exhaustion seemed to press on his very bones, egging him to close his eyes. But he didn't want to sleep—he wanted to keep talking to Chris.

Redfield's eyes widened with surprise. "_Bearfield?_"

Laughing at his duped expression, the sniper stopped before he descended into a nasty coughing fit. "You've never heard of that before? It was big when we were in training. Captain Chris Bearfield, the one guy crazy enough to take Wesker head-on."

Without warning, the Captain lifted his hand and ruffled Piers' fluffy brown locks. "Don't even talk to _me_ about crazy, Nivans. All the things _I did_ don't compare to _your one little stunt_."

Chuckling, the sniper playfully batted the larger male away. The fact he was so _casual_, so _uncaring _that half of Piers' body looked like it went through a meat grinder left the young soldier feeling awkward. Chris was so perfect, body and mind, everything he'd always wanted to be, and now _he_ was...he was...misshapen and so, so filthy. The fact reminded Nivans of how he took advantage of his Captain in the forest, how he greedily stole something without permission, especially in his current state. Like a damned _animal_. The embarrassment and shame overwhelmed him all at once like a heavy, cold wave crashing down on him.

"Captain…" murmured Chris' partner, dimly and with forlorn.

Redfield got a funny feeling Piers' sudden tone was not a good one, but he rested his hand beside the young man's face and remained quiet. If Nivans wanted to say something, he had every right to.

Not looking at him, the sniper deeply swallowed. "I'm sorry...about what happened in the forest. I'm—I'm really sor-sorry, I'm terrible to have—"

"Piers," said the Captain gently, cupping Nivans' jaw so that he could look at his subordinate's young face. Tears welled up in the bloodshot hazel eye, a clear line slipping out of the corner as Chris gave him his best reassuring expression. "You don't think I haven't thought about it once or twice?"

This stunned Piers, even making him jump. The light which pooled and melted his eye into an honey amber color was enough to make Chris smitten on the spot. "What—_really_?"

"After everything we did together and all the shit you put up from me...well, _yeah_," laughed Redfield as he ruffled Nivans' bangs again. This induced a blush and a smile, lifting the Captain's heart a little more as he smoothed his thumb over Piers' brow. "Plus...you have thick lips...and soft skin...and beautiful eyes—"

"_Eye_."

"Oh, shut up."

They chuckled again, grinning stupidly at each other as Chris swept away that one tear with the soft pad of his thumb.

Then they talked on and on about everything and nothing at all, for hours on end as the sun peaked and sunk to the horizon again. Through horrible hospital food, tests and awkward walks through the empty corridors they giggled and joked.

As the minutes swept by, Chris was happy to see his sniper's infected arm shrinking—the spikes jutting out withdrew beneath the surface, the boils altogether disappearing as his skin seemed to reshape itself, although it was still flushed with painful purple and yellow colors. They bound a cottony wrap around the skin, smothering it with ointment in the hopes it would excell the healing process. Piers was just glad he didn't have to stare at the bloating thing anymore (or that he didn't lose his arm altogether).

His right eye, however, remained inflamed and sore, unable to close. Chris meticulously squeezed eyedrops and tenderly massage the area, bringing a measure of temporary relief. Nivans was still self-conscious, attempting to bat his superior away even if it brought him discomfort.

As evening descended and a magenta sky threw violet shadows into the bland room, Redfield curled his legs beneath him as he rested his head against the cot. He was describing an old mission he went on with Sheva, colorfully painting a picture of grungy Africa and of monsters and men which seemed so distant now. As Chris talked, Piers listened, his single eye drooping with weariness. Although he spoke to Piers quietly—his hand clenched around the sniper's—his stomach was upset and his muscles kept clenching as he dryly swallowed now and again.

Piers was growing weaker.

Throughout the hours of the day, it had become more apparent that with the virus receding, so was his strength. As they wandered through the tight hallways, sometimes his sniper would stop and sag against the wall without even realizing it. The Captain nearly panicked during those moments, but years of training helped keep his cool as he enveloped his strong arm around Nivans' narrow hips to shoulder the burden.

"I'm sorry, Cap'n..." he whispered, words slurring a bit.

"What're you saying sorry for?" grunted Chris as he shrugged nonchalantly. He looked as calm as ever, his usual straight-faced form, but inside he was jumbled and lost and so horribly helpless.

"Hogging your time like this...Alpha team must be—"

"Alpha team will be just fine," assured the older man, taking Piers' other cold hand into his own. "They've got Anders to keep them busy. You're stuck with me."

Nivans peered up at the Captain, choosing not to say anything and instead leaned into Chris' soft shoulder. He didn't feel so disgusted with himself anymore to refrain from avoiding Chris' touch, but tried to enjoy being in the presence of the man he looked up to most...while he could. He sensed his body's stamina withering away like a wilting plant, each step eating away what little energy he had left.

In his mind, Chris wanted to believe his young subordinate had the will and the tenacity to get through this. His stubborn heart willed for Piers to fight for his life, for his future...yet...as Nivans laid there in the cot, his drowsy hazel eye half-lidded and his bee-stung lips slack, Chris feared for the worst.

Redfield gripped Piers' ice-cold fingers to his lips, smoothed his warm palms over frigid forearms and biceps. Anxiety was settling over Chris like nothing he'd experienced. He lost men in battle, in a matter of minutes, in the flash of a gunfight. Watching Nivans be slowly swallowed was unbearable; it killed his heart to sense the sniper slipping through his fingers and no matter how tight he held his young partner's hand, he couldn't stop it.

When night veiled the window, Chris asked Piers if he wanted to go for a walk.

For the first time, Nivans tiredly shook his head, sending a jolt of dread through Redfield's system. A nurse stood at the corner of the room with a silent doctor perched in the doorway. Tense, Chris swallowed the painful lump in his throat as he got to his feet.

"I'm going to talk to the doc real quick, okay?" he whispered.

"Mmkay," sighed Piers, his eye flickering like dim candlelight.

When he entered in the hallway with the small group of doctors, Chris took a minute to fight back the abrupt wave of emotion which slammed into him. This couldn't be happening—_not again_, not after losing him once before. He wanted to scream until his voice gave out and beat at the wall to pieces, to tell God to _go fuck himself_, but all he could do was plant his hands on top of his head and force out a trembling sigh.

"His body is simply too exhausted," murmured the brunette doctor gently as Redfield stared at the cracks in the wall, "without the virus supporting his system, and the three months in that wrecked base... We already gave him warm fluids, his body temperature is regulated, but his body is just so weak...it might be possible, if he makes it through the night...but the odds are stacked against him." Her voice faded.

"I'm sorry."

Chris' heart felt like it was breaking in half, his eyebrows creasing together as his jaw tightened with pain. He mustered a half-decent response, just nodding fruitlessly, as his chin trembled and he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. _This can't be happening._

Returning to Piers' side, he leaned over his woozy partner. "Oh, Piers..."

Nivans protested in the form of slurred grumbles as Redfield tugged the electrodes from his bare chest. Curling a burly arm around the young sniper's shoulders, he slowly brought his sniper upright as a nurse's remained just outside the doorway. Nivans slackened against the heavy frame of his Captain, mumbling wordlessly against his neck.

"Piers, you've gotta fight this, okay?" he murmured hoarsely, tears stuck in his throat. "You've gotta fight just a little longer..."

Shivering against Chris' warm arms, Nivans mumbled, "I'm tired..."

Pressing his lips to his partner's temple, he said, "I know you are, but you've gotta. You gotta try, okay?"

When Piers didn't answer, the Captain sucked in an aching, quivering breath. Pulling the lieutenant into his lap, Redfield embraced his lean frame as fully as he could. Skimming his hand up and down Nivans' arched back, he rocked the sniper in his arms as though trying to comfort himself as much he tried comforting Piers.

_This can't be happening._

"Please stick in there a little longer..."

* * *

><p><em>AN:_ To be continued...! Thank you for reading!


	5. Ripples

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own RE.

_Chapter 5_: Ripples

Piers suddenly shifted in Redfield's arms, Chris glancing down at him as he attempted to blink back an onslaught of tears.

"Maybe…" whispered the sniper, "maybe a...bath…?"

Pushing the lump lodged in his throat back down, the Captain murmured, "Yeah...yeah, of course."

Calling in the nurse, Redfield quired about a private bath they could use. The blonde blinked curiously in return, but then nodded quickly. "Yes, definitely." He pointed to a closed door on the right side of the room. "There's the bathroom. I'll get it started."

"Thanks," he answered, his voice a little less dead.

Fitting his left arm underneath Piers' knee, he lifted the limp sniper from the thick sheets and rounded the bed. The nurse turned on the water full blast as the Captain entered, steam pouring into the sage-green plastic tub.

"It's all yours, bud," said the blonde with a single nod. "Call if you need anything."

"Thank you."

Shutting the door with his foot, he rested Piers on the edge of the tub. Nivans swayed unsteadily, but the Captain kept a hand on his shoulder as he untied the back of the hospital gown. Gently, he slipped the thin fabric from the lieutenant's trembling, pale body. The tub was filling nicely as Chris bunched the young soldier to his chest again and gradually placed him into the hot, clear waters. A last-second thought made the Captain sit down and yank off his boots as well, tossing them to the corner. He yanked the t-shirt free of his body, then jerked off his fatigues, kicking them into the pile.

Settling at the edge of the tub, Chris swallowed his dread, the fear from just looking at Piers' ashen skin tone. Instead, he cupped his hand and rinsed handfuls of the hot liquid over smooth muscles, barely able to enjoy the simple touch. He wished he could touch Nivans like this every day…brown eyes soaked in all of his partner's details, from his slender neck to the curve of his jaw to his round chin and all the little lines on his shoulders. The boy was handsome, far more than Redfield deserved.

Eventually, the tub was full and everything was quiet, save for the sound of water dripping from Chris' flushed fingers. Every now and again, he made sure his young partner was breathing, his pulse elevating a little from the warmth of the water.

The lieutenant suddenly hummed, cutely lifting his shoulders as he rubbed his still-working eye. Blinking lazily at the Captain, who offered the best weakened smile, he said, "There you are."

"Here I am," replied Chris as he skimmed his finger over his partner's jawline.

Softly sighing, Nivans leaned into the touch. "This is nice…"

The sniper watched with interest as his Captain gnawed at his lip, a habit he developed over the course of their time spent in the hospital. It was endearing, his concern...he was staring at Piers like a worried mother, and Nivans wanted to kiss that frown away. He wanted to feel those velvet lips melt into his, he just wanted…

Leaning to his side—Redfield blinking in surprise—Piers drew in close and fastened his mouth to his Captain's. Although a little stunned, Chris didn't pull away and the younger slipped his tongue behind a wall of teeth, reveling in his sweet, butter-cookie taste. Their warm tongues mixed together, the sniper dissolving into the basking glow called Chris Redfield. Nursing the swell of his superior's bottom lip, a slight, coaxing noise slipped from Chris' throat that sent a fiery arrow of desire straight to the sniper's groin. The lieutenant's need was evident as he pressed his mouth harder against his Captain's, bringing a measure of life back to him when he'd felt so drained before.

Then, suddenly, the larger male took hold of Nivans' shoulders, pulling him away. The Captain's face was contorted with worry as he murmured quietly, "You should...you _need_ to rest. Your body needs to recover."

Pouting, Piers glared at him and said, "Rot in a hospital bed...or have sex with the hot Captain."

The pair stared at each for a long moment, Chris' chocolate-brown eyes flicking around his partner's face in thought. Doubt surfaced in the lieutenants mind, his shoulders slumping as disappointment covered him like a blanket. He couldn't force Chris to do anything, naturally. However, the simmering thought of sex and being one with the Captain manifested a feeling of something other than just pure _exhaustion_. He had no problem kicking the bucket if it meant it being in the throes of of having another mind-blowing orgasm.

Shuffling his footing and releasing his hold on the sniper's arms, Redfield muttered, "Fine, you win. But you're not allowed to make that face at me anymore."

Nivans grinned, triumphant. "What face?"

"You know what—hey!" he gasped. Piers, instead of returning to Chris' mouth, had moved down south to nurse his flush nipple.

For ages, the sniper had dreamed about sucking those perfect nipples and no-one was going to deny him tonight. Despite Chris' one protest, he simply watched his partner now as he lovingly sucked the pink skin, Piers wrapping his arms around the elder's frame and drawing his heavy abdomen close. Water lapped the edges of the bathtub, although neither noticed as Nivans nipped the sensitive area, drawing a sweet gasp from his superior. Redfield's legs trembled slightly with building pleasure, finding it easy to get in the mood besides the circumstances. Maybe it was because Piers alone drew it out of him—whatever the case, Chris was getting hard when Piers reached down with a single hand, brushing his finger over the crack of his buttcheeks.

"Huh-uh, I don't think so," said Redfield as he got to his feet, grabbing both of Nivans' biceps to drag him up, too.

Confused, Piers didn't struggle as Chris lifted him from the water as it cascaded over his flushed skin. Behind the Captain, there were four or five towels and he grabbed a couple, using one to wrap around the young man's soaked frame and another to lay out on the floor. The sniper felt uncertain, his legs still weak and quivering as he watched Chris. _Did he...change his mind?_

At that moment, the elder took Piers' arms again and directed him to sit on the edge of the tub. Then he sat directly in front of the young ace, legs folded under him, scooting in close. Nivans blushed when the Captain urged the lieutenant's legs apart, exposing the erect member beneath.

"Wh...what're you doing?" wondered Piers bashfully.

Chris peered up at him. "What does it look like?"

"Have you...done it before…?"

His superior blinked at him, unfazed. "Well, it can't be _that_ hard, can it? Why, have you?"

Nivans saw no point in keeping the lid on it, as it was. "Yeah."

"Was it awful?" asked Redfield bluntly.

The sniper quickly shook his head, toes curling with anticipation.

"Then what's the big deal?" And then he leaned in, wrapping both arms around the ace's lean waist and resting on his legs. Still dripping wet, his dick was slick as Chris nudged it with his nose, hot tongue darting out to taste it.

A wonderful, groin-burning moan came from Piers as he intently watched the Captain, his attention solely on the warmth of his tongue and his hard cock. Meanwhile, Chris was trying to think what felt good on _him_ so he could dish out some half-decent moves, even if he was a novice at this sort of thing. Using only his mouth, he caressed the pink tip, the edges, the thin slit at the top. Cautious, he gently raked his teeth over the sensitive skin, making the member twitch as Piers' gasp dissolved into a moan.

Finally, the Captain took the member fully into his mouth, earning a lovely sound as his partner skimmed gentle fingers over Chris' scalp. The sniper's musky scent was everywhere, enticing the escalating fire as he sucked Piers' dick like a lollipop. Every now and again, there was the salty undertone of precum, Nivans squeezing his legs around Redfield's large frame.

Chris performed well, making Piers' dick swell with need as he made some of the most delicious sounds his superior had ever heard. Against the sniper's usual, guarded persona, this was a side the Captain had never witnessed before—vulnerable and exquisite, begging to be gobbled up. He tasted good, he smelled good, he looked good—it was enough to drive Redfield crazy. His own rod was hard and straining against the rough material of his briefs, begging to make Nivans cry out his name over and over again.

"Y-you're…" the sniper panted, cheeks red as cherries, "you're really...good at this!"

A haughty satisfaction came over Redfield, knowing he wasn't the only one who got hot and bothered by the other. This relationship was going to get _very _addicting, _very _quick.

"Nnn, wait…! Captain…!" gasped Piers breathlessly as he shuddered. "I'm...I'm close…!"

The Captain didn't stop, but instead slipped his balmy palm underneath the towel and over the round circumference of Nivans' sleek backside. Steadily, he used his fingers to make an invisible line down the center, eventually to the bare entrance.

Chris didn't even need to put a finger in to tip his partner over the edge—suddenly Piers cried out and his superior's mouth was filled to the brim with thick, boiling seed. There was so much that it poured from his soft lips and down his scruffy chin, dripping onto the towel below. Redfield didn't know what to do, even with the sniper's twitching dick still in his mouth.

"Hah...oh, Captain…" moaned Nivans as he offered the larger man a pleading look, "I'm...so sorry, Captain…"

Plucking the cock from his burning mouth, Chris stood upright with the hard-on of his life. Tugging the annoying briefs from his stiff rod, Piers leaned forward, dropping his jaw to return the favor—when Redfield stopped him. Glancing up at his Captain, the heavy male shook his head and cupped his hand to his lips. Rooted, Nivans watched with wide eyes as Chris opened his mouth and white streamed out into his large palm. Then, he used the spit and cum mixture to gloss his dick, making Piers drool at the sight. The sniper had _never seen anyone do that before._

"Are you ready, Piers?" murmured Chris huskily.

"Y...yes..." he whispered, eyes glued to the dripping thing that was his Captain's _God Rod_. He'd only been able to touch it before without really taking in its size: the thing was massive, burning red with thick veins webbed around it.

Bending down, Redfield slipped his enormous arms beneath either of Nivans' legs, propping them upwards. "Put your arms around me," instructed his superior softly, his eyes like rich honey.

Despite the traces of uncertainty in his thoughts, Piers hastily wrapped his arms around Chris' powerful neck. _What is he…?_ The thought never finished when suddenly the larger man swept him into the air, a gasp rushing out of the young sniper as he hugged Redfield's head to him.

"C..._Captain…_!" exclaimed Piers, his cheeks flushing into a beautiful rosy color. He could sense the giant cock brushing his underside, _very _close to the _very_ exposed opening.

"Stand at attention, soldier," replied Chris in a sexy, gruff manner.

"Y-yessir!"

_Oh my god, I'm in love,_ thought Nivans. Yes, he thought he was in love before—a crushing love, more like—but now he was _in love_. Heart throbbing at the dawning realization, he squeezed his partner's shoulders all the tighter. _I'm in love._

Deliberately, Chris pressed the head of his dick to Nivans' tight entrance, the young sniper trying to relax around his Captain as he ducked his head against the crevice of his superior's neck. Gravity aided in the process, pushing the throbbing member past the lips as it penetrated deeper. A mew found its way out, a tiny noise only serving to make Redfield all the hornier. It should not be legal for Piers to make sounds like that.

"Captain...it hurts...!" gasped the sniper as he clung Chris' shoulder, nails digging in.

He was only halfway there and Redfield couldn't help but prod. "I thought...you've been with others...?"

"_He_ didn't have a python in his pants!"

Chris couldn't hold back his laughter, pressing a soft kiss to the lieutenant's ear. "Just a little more, sweetie. I'm almost there."

Despite the aching sting, the sniper couldn't help but feel loved by the way he said that word. Redfield didn't give _anyone_ nicknames. _Sweetie. I'm his sweetie. _

Settling down to the hilt, Piers released a drawn-out moan, feeling every thick inch of the pulsing dick inside him. The curled angle of his taught frame pushed it against his prostate, sending a fiery jolt through the simmering pain. Nivans fit around his Captain like a glove, warm and tight and perfect. They were melting together, breathing together, their shallow pants and fluttering heartbeats timing with each other.

"I'm going to move..."

Chomping down on his lip, Nivans nodded. Chris started in a rhythm of slow, intense thrusts, pushing against that sweet spot over and over again where the sniper couldn't remember why it hurt in the first place. Redfield's cock driving upward felt _so absurdly good_ it blocked out the hurt, the exhaustion, the doubt. Piers gasped with each buck of the Captain's hips, probably creating enough noise to wake up the entire hospital.

"_Captain_…" moaned Nivans as he gripped the larger man's giant shoulders.

Every muscle in Redfield's body was tense and sculpted underneath the young soldier's fingertips, hard as steel and not even quivering with the weight of his partner in his arms.

"Say my name, Piers," ordered the elder, his brown eyes boring into hazel ones.

"Nn...Chris!"

The Captain was devouring him, claiming every inch as his own.

"_Again_, Piers."

Nivans' body quaked, his strength waning as his hips turned to butter.

"_Chris!_"

It felt so damn good, but he couldn't keep his body upright anymore. Dizzy, the sniper tipped backwards towards the floor, Redfield lightning fast as he shifted one arm to catch his partner. Dropping to his knees, Chris reached out and grabbed the couple unraveled towels to place beneath Piers. Delicately leaning over, he eased his gasping Nivans onto the floor, still deep inside him.

Hovering over Piers' stretched, athletic frame, he cradled the lieutenant's slim waist to him and cupped his other warm hand over his partner's sweating forehead. "Are you okay, honey?"

Wheezing, Nivans beamed at his lover and murmured, "Never better, Captain."

Chris smirked, lifting his hips back to only fluidly roll forward again, drawing a delicious humm from thick, pink lips. The sniper's eyelids flickered as he settled his legs to loosely drape around his superior's hips. Redfield was addicted to the way he fit inside his partner, and within a minute, he was shrugging down heavily, burying himself farther and faster. Nivans' trembling, weakened arms enveloped the Captain's head again as he grunted from the fireworks of pleasure bursting inside. Every nerve sang with bliss, his skin flushed and, for the first time in three months, he was able to squeeze his infected eyelid shut.

There was no pain, no fear, just this _joi de vivre_.

"_Chris_…!" cried Piers as he arched his back, slicking his swelling member against the larger male's wet belly.

Redfield nearly peaked right then and there at the sight—beholding his lover writhing underneath him was almost too much—but he reeled, intent for Nivans to cum first. Tilting his head, he captured Piers' soft mouth, sucking in his gasps as he embraced the lieutenant tight against his frame. An incredible rush cascaded over the sniper, like a wave of pure heat clapping into him, as he cried out into his superior's lips. White spurted in between their rubbing tummies and Piers tightened around Chris like a vice, finally dragging Redfield into the intense light. Hot liquid poured into the ace, Chris grunting as he bathed in the incredible pleasure and need.

When all was said and done, they were left splayed on the cold bathroom tiles, panting and holding each other. Chris planted feathery kisses along Nivans' jawline, the satiny flesh of his neck, his smooth collar bone. Spent beyond spent, the sniper's hands and legs fell away, open to the tiny pecks his Captain dotted over his rosy skin.

"Captain…" whispered Piers, eyelids hooded, "...Chris…"

Lifting himself forward again, Redfield brushed his silk lips over his lover's. "Yes, Piers…?"

"I…" he stared straight through Chris' eyes and into his very war-hardened soul, "I love you."

Swallowing the sudden lump of stinging tears in the back of his throat, brown eyes softened into molten gold and he replied, "I love you too, Piers."

Nivans smiled, albeit a bit sadly, turning his superior's heart over in his chest. How could one little look from a slip of a man cause him to go weak in the knees? Chris never thought he could become attached to anyone ever again, not after losing Jill, not after losing his men, not after everything Umbrella and Wesker had done to destroy his world. He thought he could remain aloof and just friendly enough for people to leave him alone while he bided his time to die each night in his tiny, cluttered apartment.

Yet, Piers breathed life back into him and so much more. He didn't remember love like this. There was the duty of a soldier to his partner, to his comrades—_then there was this._ To feel so totally and desperately needing someone...Chris didn't want to imagine his life without his sniper's presence there.

The thoughts broke when Nivans shivered against him, cold dusting over his frame again without the heat of sex to keep him warm.

"I'll get a blanket, honey," whispered the heavier male as he pulled from Nivans' embrace.

Lifting himself from Piers' heated insides, Chris got to his feet and used a third towel to buffer himself off before grabbing his fatigues. He didn't bother to button them up (still hard as a rock), rather just as a precaution as he quietly opened the door. As silently as he could, Redfield reached for the plush, eggshell blanket on the cot—

Caio rushed into the room, already up in arms: "_Chris Redfield!_ What the _hell_ are you do—oh my god."

The Captain didn't know if it was his exposed, wet chest, his still-taught cock peeking out of his pants or what the whole image insinuated, but the Director inhaled sharply, averting her sheepish gaze as her whole, pale face became a brilliant red.

"Th-that is _against regulations_, Captain," she said with exasperation, her sapphire eyes flicking on and off his partially exposed privates.

"I apologize," answered Redfield with a cheeky tone (after all, he wasn't sorry whatsoever). It was interesting to see General Hardass shuffling about with nervousness. She could stare at mutilated B.O.W.'s, decapitated heads, blood and guts all day and yet when it came to Chris' _manhood_, she was at a loss. "I was helping Piers take a bath."

A huff. "W-we heard _noises_—"

"We also...had a tickle fight," murmured Chris. Taking the velvety blanket beneath his thick arm, he straightened, aiming to seem as large as possible. Usually worked when he wanted something to go his way.

Caio wasn't that stupid, though, and gave him a flat, lifeless look. "A _tickle fight._ Just call me General Idiot because that's obviously who you think I am."

"No…" replied the Captain as he dipped his head. "But for Piers' sake…"

Glaring daggers at him, she waited just enough time to make him squirm before she said, "You are going to get me _fired_."

"Am not—"

"_Are too_. Now—" she straightened her perfectly creased business pants and her suit jacket, "_keep it down._"

Redfield nodded submissively. "Yes ma'am."

With a puff, the older woman spun on her heel and stomped out, grumbling something about pythons under her breath. Chris smirked, despite himself—without any reason, "General Hardass" was suddenly taking a liking to him. He probably had Piers to thank for that.

Dismissing the awkward conversation, Chris returned to the bathroom to his lover, who hadn't moved an inch. If at all possible, he seemed even _more_ burnt out than before theirs sex-capade, no thanks to the Captain's dried-up sex life. Head lolled to the side, dark eyelids heavy, Piers remained still as his partner bent over him. Redfield wiped away the sticky residue of cum from Piers smooth belly and beneath his legs, padding his olive skin dry.

"Alright, here we are," said Chris, half to himself and half to Piers.

One arm holding the blanket, he reached out with the other to help Nivans to his feet. The sniper took his hand and strained to pull his feet beneath him, only for his lean legs to quake in protest. He couldn't even stand, hardly able to keep his torso upright with one feeble elbow.

"Chris..."

"It's alright, it's alright," spoke the Captain swiftly as he returned to his knees. He was speaking words of comfort, but all he could think was _Fuck, fuck fuck..._

Sweeping the heavy white blanket around quivering shoulders, Redfield bundled the young soldier before picking him off the frozen floor. Piers didn't protest or glib, simply hanging, quiet, in his powerful arms like a limp rag doll. To say Chris wanted to kick himself was an understatement; it was hard to smother the regret and the resentment he felt towards himself, the guilt shrouding over him like a black cloud.

"Are you here with me, Piers?" asked his partner in a trembling voice. His tone was far weaker than he intended, showcasing his fears.

"'M here, Cap'n..." mumbled the distant lieutenant.

Chris settled onto the bed, shoving away the tubes and the wires, all save for one. Leaning back, he relaxed Piers to the plush pillows, shifting so both fit under the fluffy blanket. With a deep and content sigh, Nivans snuggled his naked frame against the elder. Stretching, the Captain grabbed the heart monitor and tagged it to his lover's forefinger, bringing the dark computer to their left back to life. The consistent ticking of Piers' heartbeat echoed in the room, leaving nothing else to Chris' thoughts.

As selfish as it sounded, he didn't want the lieutenant to sleep; he wanted to hear his young voice, to know that he was still here with him. _Please..._

"Hey," murmured his superior after a moment, rubbing the sniper's shoulder nervously, "let's get breakfast tomorrow, you and me."

Piers was halfway to dreamland, but responded softly anyways: "Mmkay, Cap'n..."

"There's this new place on the beach...they have donuts," he went on, blinking rapidly to keep the bombarding wave of tears back. It wouldn't be long, though. "In like a hundred flavors, too."

"Sounds good...Cap'n..."

"We can get there early, watch the sun rise..."

"Kay..."

"Maybe we can go to my sister's place afterward, you know? You never got to meet her...Claire. She's as crazy as you are."

Piers mumbled something unintelligible. Swallowing a rock, Chris curled his limbs around his lover in a futile attempt to keep him awake, his chest tightening with dread. _God, please no..._

"Oh, Piers..." The tears were falling before he could stop them, his hand cradling Nivans' lax head he pressed tear-stained lips to the younger man's smooth temple. There was a million things he wanted to say, to share with this man who had stolen his heart. "I never got to tell you...I never got to say thank you."

Slipping a thumb beneath the sniper's chin, his partner's eyes creaked open as if it was the hardest task in the world. "Mm...?"

"For saving my life," replied Chris as he sniffed, spellbound by earthy hazel eyes. His other once-infected eye had returned to normal, save for the milky white sheen masking his pupil. "You saved my life. Thank you."

Blinking slowly, a whisper of a smile crept over the young soldier's lips. "Of course...Cap'n..."

"So we'll just say good night, okay? Good night and see you in the morning."

Piers grinned that boyish grin, yanking at his Captain's heart strings. "Good night, Chris...I'll...see you in the morning."

Sucking in a haggard breath, Redfield pulled Nivans tight against his chest, his giant arms totally encompassing the lieutenant. Nivans descended into a silent sleep, the heart monitor steadily beeping away. That little shred of hope was the only thing keeping Chris from totally losing his mind as the dark minutes bore on.

As Piers auburn hair dried, Chris raked his hands through the silky threads, pressing trembling kisses to his pink cheeks. Minutes dragged into hours, the choking night never ending, nor Chris' resolve to see it through. He would go from _I'm fine, he'll be fine, we'll make it through this_ to _Oh, God, what do you expect me to do without him?!_

Here in his arms, Chris would never get to guess or wonder if there was a different way. He would leave and never come back...!

"Oh, God..." whispered Chris as he bit his quivering bottom lip. "I don't know what I did to piss you off, but please...don't take it out on Piers. Please, God...just let him stay. Please, _please_ let him stay, alright? I'll _go in his place _if I have to. He's young, he's supposed to take over for me and I'm...oh, God, _please..._!"

In the hallway, Caio cast her disheartened blue eyes to the floor at Chris' struggling gasps, his outcries. A couple of the nurses were standing by just in case, also silent and frowning as the clock rounded midnight.

Squeezing his partner's slack frame, Chris murmured his desperate hopes into Piers' soft hair. A agonizing headache was pounding restlessly at his the back of his skull, his whole body aching at the constant tension. He was terrified of falling asleep—for Piers to be gone before he woke up, for him to disappear without getting a chance to say good-bye…!

"Oh...God..."

How was he supposed to survive this?

"Please..."

Piers had given absolutely everything to him...

"Please, _please_..."

He wanted nothing more than to give Piers everything in return...

"Don't take him away from me..."


	6. Storm

_Author's Note_: Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful support through this fanfiction. At one point I had no intention of actually posting it, but I'm glad I did. Thank you again so much for reading. (bows)

_Disclaimer_: I do not own RE.

_Chapter 6_: Storm

_I'm sorry, Captain...I did it for the BSAA...for the future!_

"Please, God, no..."

_I know...you did a real good thing._

"Please don't take him away from me..."

Darkness swirled around Chris as though it were alive, writhing with pain and anger and exhaustion as the Captain slowly marched forward.

_Piers, open the _goddamn _door! That's an order!_

Weakened metal walls creaked under the strain of water pressure as thin trails of liquid seeped inside. As much as Chris strained and pushed forward, gravity seemed to fight him from reaching his objective.

_I don't think I'm ready for that._

Ahead, the agony-filled memory of the Captain dragging Piers to the escape pod was displayed like two people performing a play. Chris stared with giant brown eyes, watching himself heave the infected sniper onto the bench, then dive for the controls.

_You've made it this far, haven't you?_

Arches of blue electricity crackled around the trembling man, with a cold, dim light pooling over two figures before him. Little blips of previous memories drained in like the dark waters pushing at him on all sides; but there was no mistaking what was happening.

_Piers, don't do this!_

In the memory, Chris assisted Piers to his feet and, together, they stood in front of the pod. Just as the Captain was prepared to jump, Nivans jerked himself from his superior's hold. Stunned, Chris sensed something in his hand...before he slowly returned his solemn gaze to Piers.

_I'm going to get you through this, Piers, do you understand me?_

Drawing in a haggard, quaking gulp of air, Chris swung his hand forward. Not again. He couldn't go through this _again_, dream or not. "No…!"

_You see that, we'll be out of here in no time._

"Piers, stop!" Chris yelled as he reached out in slow motion, his heart pounding a million miles a minute. Centimeters away from grabbing Piers' shoulder and the sniper shoved the "other" Chris in the pod and the doors sealed shut. The Captain in the memory begged and demanded, screamed and whispered, but Nivans turned away and set the pod in motion.

_Here we go, Piers, we're getting out of here._

"No! _Piers!"_

The hole in Chris' heart that he'd been working for months to patch was mercilessly torn open again. The metal sphere discharged from the port, leaving Piers behind _again._ _This can't be happening._

_No...Piers!_

The groaning of metal and the rafters was all that was here now; Chris watched with tear-filled eyes as Piers stood, alone, his legs trembling with pain. For the past three months, that's all the Captain could dream of—watching this scene over and over again like some Biohazard hell. And, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop it.

"Goddamit Piers..." croaked Chris as he stepped next to his infected lieutenant. "Do you know what that _did to me?!_"

Like every dream before, Piers didn't answer. He couldn't hear his Captain.

"Answer me! Dammit, _answer me_..." Shaking his head, the older male's jaw clenched like a vice as he grabbed the young sniper's shoulder.

Wait...he could touch him?!

Black water exploded from every crack and bent panel, dousing him in freezing liquid. But he kept his grip on Piers' shoulder, knowing if he let go he would lose his lover forever.

_That's right..._

"You came back to me!" He gasped, shaking his head as a cold spray covered his whole upper body. "I don't understand, why—?"

Beneath them, the creaking floor shuddered, but Piers didn't seem to notice. Water rapidly filled up whatever space was left, a heavy current slowly pulling the ace from Chris' grip. Fumbling, the older man took the ace's hand into his own. He wouldn't let go, _not this time! _Not while he was in Chris' arms...!

"Piers!" cried the Captain, battling the consuming seawater with all his might. "_Piers!"_

_"It's alright..._"

Blinking, Chris strained against the rising water, which was already up to his chest, to look at Piers' face. That same damn smile. The confident, haunting, calm, beautiful smile that Chris wouldn't be able to wring from his memories no matter how long he lived.

"It's alright, Chris."

"No, Piers! Don't leave me!" begged the Captain, using every ounce of his strength to stay connected. "_Piers!_"

Gloved fingers slipped through Chris' hand, the unrelinquishing darkness consuming Piers faster than the blink of an eye.

Jerking into consciousness, Chris gasped in a terrified breath of air as the nightmare relinquished its neck-breaking hold on him. A silver, dark morning pooled into the bleak room; a cold and unforgiving light which didn't offer him any kind of comfort. That dream—that _nightmare_, more accurately, always did a superb job in shaking Chris' reality to the core. With quaking hands, the Captain shuffled around to make sure Piers was safe...that he was alive and okay...but he soon realized he was there, alone, in the silent cot.

"Piers?" Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stumbled around the room, wide brown eyes scouring every inch—including the bathroom—and found nothing.

_Piers is gone._

Lunging from the empty latrine, Chris buttoned up his pants as he dashed into the silent hallway, nearly colliding into a little blonde nurse on his way out.

"He's gone!" exclaimed the Captain, grabbing her narrow shoulders.

"Lieutenant Nivans—?"

"_Who do you think?! _Yes, _Nivans!_" he cried, fury boiling over in an instant.

Jerking to the right, he sprinted down the corridor to the stairwell, throwing himself against the door. Stumbling down as fast as his well-endowed legs would take him, he was at the bottom floor in a matter of seconds. Then he was dashing down the cluttered hallway, trying to avoid plowing into doctors and nurses and civilians as his dog tags jangled helplessly around his straining neck.

_Please, no..._

All he could think of was Piers—_his Piers_, dying cold and alone. Chris would literally put a bullet in his brain if he found his lover like that, without the warmth of his Captain's arms to keep him safe.

Winding through the bleak, shadowed hallways of the hospital, Chris' bare feet padded softly against the white tiles. Brown eyes scanned over every office and hospital room, his heart stampeding against his chest with more dread as each second passed. In the early hours of the morning, everything was still slow-moving and whisper quiet, but his thoughts were loud and frantic.

Adrenaline soaked every muscle and nerve, leaving Redfield twitchy as he found himself peering into meetings and janitor closets without a second thought. Stomach knotted up, the Captain scoured every inch of the first floor, half tempted to return upstairs.

Through his panicked thoughts, however, Chris retained a moment of clarity. _I have to think._ Stopping briefly, his dropped wide eyes to his feet. _Why would Piers get out of bed? The bathroom was right there. Then...food?_

Chris scurried down the hall, sprinting to the closest stairwell to the basement where the cafeteria was located. Slamming through the door and down the muggy, concrete steps, he spilled out into the corridor and nearly collided into another nurse. Without time to spare, he offered a frantic _Sorry!_ before scrambling towards the smell of breakfast.

_Oh, please, please..._

Around another corner, and then another—

Empty.

Swearing under his breath, Chris spun away from unforgiving silence and back up stairs. _He has to be outside, then. It's the only explanation._

Bursting out of the emergency room doors, the California sky muddled with grey, oppressive clouds, he snapped his warrior-trained gaze over parked cars, unsuspecting BSAA personnel, and the cold landscape. Morning was barely cresting over the horizon, but the overcast skies kept everything dark and morbid.

"PIERS!" he barked, making still-droopy-eyed paramedics jump in terror. "_PIERS!"_

Spinning about, he jogged to the parking lot, looking for any signs of a group of people or whatever seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing, there was _nothing._ A couple nurses tagged behind him, obviously fearing losing a high-priority patient. They circled the perimeter of the quiet building, through the empty courtyard filled with browning bushes and around the overflow parking area. Redfield continued to shout his partner's name until his voice was hoarse and croaking, his hands shaking by his thighs.

Chris was close to full-blown breakdown. They traversed the entire area of the hospital _again_, but clearly he wasn't anywhere to be found. Heart ready to beat right out his chest, Chris stopped and fell silent, the two panting nurses behind him doing the same. Head hung low, a terrifying thought entered in the Captain's mind, one that swallowed any sense of hope left in his panicked thoughts—

Suddenly, one of the green-clad nurses said, "What about the beach?"

"The…" The seasoned Captain glanced back at the blonde, who in turn flicked her worried blue eyes at her male cohort.

Turning to the ridge dotted with prickly bushes and towering, lanky palm trees, Chris launched into a sprint, jumping clear over the vegetation and into soft sands. He nearly took a nose dive, too, catching himself at the last second only to straighten and tumble closer to the empty shore.

"_PIERS_!"

Blood rushing in his ears, his heart was ready to explode as his mind spun with thoughts that couldn't connect. What if he walked out into the ocean, delirious with exhaustion? What if someone grabbed him? He was going mad at the images flicking through his speeding thoughts, his temples pounding without relief.

_Please..._

A salty wind breathed over him in a cooling whisper, the cerulean waves polishing the sands as Chris' bare feet pattered against the seaweed-littered tide. Glancing in either direction, his sharp brown eyes scanned the never-ending beach for miles. Couples and families clad in autumn clothing dotted the flesh-colored horizon with no sign of the ace. With a slump, the Captain collapsed to his knees as a threatening ambush of burning tears assaulted his eyes. _This can't be happening_.

What if...what if it all…

Jaw clenching, the poison seeped in faster than he could resist it. _Was it all a dream…?_ It didn't seem to make any sense, but he made a point of keeping the trauma of Tatchi to himself. He would dream. He would remember Piers' face all over again. The little details, his intense sense of justice, the arch of his smooth eyebrows, even the way his thick lips would move. And those grey-brown eyes, how they reflected perfectly in the burning fires of Tatchi...

What if...what if he relapsed, what if he...what if Piers wasn't...

Squeezing dark-circled eyes shut, Chris hammered a punch into a mound of loose sand, spraying it everywhere around him.

"Captain Redfield—"

"_Captain!_"

Swiveling his head to the right, Chris' heart jumped into his throat. Suddenly he wasn't sitting on the beach anymore, but scrambling to his feet, his giant steps swallowing the ground beneath him. The broken shards of his heart melted back together again as he took a confused-looking Piers into his enormous shoulders, crushing the ace to his shaking form. Something was clutched in the sniper's hold, but the Captain barely noticed—one hand cupped the back of Piers' head, his lips planting kisses into soft, auburn hair. Another arm trapped Nivans' waist against his larger torso, aiming to feel as much of his lover as possible.

"C-Captain…?"

The tentative, worried voice broke Redfield's overwhelming trance and, as the older male sucked in a quivering breath, he jerked Piers away from him.

The death glare was enough to make Nivans hunker in his Captain's hold. Chris was _not_ happy. "Did you just _want_ me to have a heart attack?!"

Those giant, hazel eyes stared up with concern, cheeks red and hair frazzled. "Captain—"

"_I thought I was losing my damn mind!_"

"Chris, I—"

"You're _never_ allowed to leave my sight _again_," commanded the Captain with every ounce of his being. "That's an _order_."

Dragging Piers back into his embrace and thrusting his lips hard onto his ace's with bruising force, the Captain demanded entrance that the young lieutenant submitted to easily. He had to reassure himself—now, more than ever—that this was real, that it wasn't some _massive hallucination_. As before, Nivans didn't try to fight back or deny the tortured man, allowing Chris to devour him on the spot. It could've been minutes or hours, but the Captain kept his mouth fully merged with the younger man's until he felt the fear seep from his veins, the dread burning up in the fire of hope. The heated moment simmered as the Captain rested a softer, kinder kiss on those bow-tie lips. Relaxing his hold on the ace, Chris finally broke the breathless kiss so he could bunch those narrow shoulders in his arms again.

"Captain, I'm sorry…" said Piers immediately, sliding one hand up the older man's bare back.

"You'll be paying for that little stunt later," murmured Chris begrudgingly and raked his fingers through tussles of brown hair. Finally out from under his initial panic, the Captain also realized Piers had stolen some of his clothes—the large pair of jeans Caio brought him were creeping steadily down the lieutenant's perfect backside, and the giant t-shirt wasn't helping much to mask Piers' healthy, olive skin.

_Healthy_. _He's...healthy._

"What gave you the _brilliant_ idea to leave at the break of dawn and give me a panic attack?" wondered the Captain. Cold palms caressed the hot surface of Piers' back, reveling in the smooth texture of his skin.

"I didn't _expect _you to wake up," protested the ace. Attempting to separate from the elder, Piers was promptly denied as Chris squeezed him into an embrace again. He was effectively trapped. "Captain…"

"I'm waiting for an answer, lieutenant."

"You should really look at yourself. You look like you got ran over by a freight train," he murmured gently, and then dipped his head into the crescent of Chris' powerful neck. "I thought, you know...it would be nice when you woke up…"

A shred of guilt twinged Chris' heart by the quelled tone. "What would be nice…?" he asked.

Piers shifted in the Captain's arms, glancing down at what was in his hand. A white paper bag? Together, they opened it and Redfield curiously peered inside.

"Donuts…?" Swinging his brown eyes up at the ace again, the young man blushed feverishly.

"You were saying...last night, you know...and I thought…well, I guessed..." Nivans' stammering was about the cutest thing Chris ever laid eyes on. "They're all squished now, though…"

"That's…" started the elder, the remorse quickly rising. Had it not been ruined by his massive freakout, it would've been a very sweet thing to do. Piers was only trying to do something kind for his anxiety-ridden Captain...and what did Chris do? Lose his shit. He was good at that. "That's...my bad. They still look good, though."

The sniper didn't answer right away, making Chris want to kick himself all over again. Not the most glorious start to a relationship—

"If you don't mind making a mess," responded the lieutenant, offering his superior a cocked grin, "then I'm down."

_Oh thank God_. "I doubt our stomachs will know the difference."

"I'm sorry again…" murmured his lover quietly, smiling dropping as he peered up at his Captain with those spellbinding puppy eyes. "I didn't think about it, it was...irresponsible."

Lacing Piers' fingers in his own, Chris pulled the lieutenant along, a squad of nurses and Caio at its center forming on the entrance of the beach. Obviously the Captain's panic was heard clear to the administrative building of their headquarters. A howling, turbulent wind picked up over the ocean, a tell-tale sign of a storm brewing. Chris simply saw it as a perfect reason to stay indoors and discover just how loud he could make Piers cry out his name.

"Well," murmured the heavy-set male finally, "don't worry. I have the perfect punishment."

Piers' arched eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "What's that?"

"If everything goes according to plan," he responded with a certain grin, "you being sprawled out beneath me. Naked. And sweating. And yelling out my name."

The blush which took over Nivans' features defeated all those he had before. "_Oh_."

"_Oh_ is right," retorted the Captain.

A thought struck Chris, however, that made him stop.

Naturally Piers stopped with him, asking his name, before his superior turned to face his young sniper. Brown eyes thoughtfully roved over Nivans' still-bandaged right arm clutching their bag of donuts. A lot of what happened the past three days was surreal—and even before, when forced to leave Piers behind, didn't seem like it could be possible. The one person he was supposed to protect...of _all_ those he was supposed to protect, and they ended up protecting his sorry butt instead. For weeks—no, _for months_ he spent convincing himself that he would wake up the next morning and Piers' text messages wouldn't be there, or he would arrive at work and Piers wouldn't be waiting for him in the locker room.

Right up until the very moment, that morning three days ago when Nivans literally dropped into his lap during that training mission...he tried to force himself to realize that _he'd never see Piers again. _

"Listen, Piers…" started the Captain, clasping his warmed fingers around his lover's left hand, "and this is important, okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

"When you...when I had to...leave you behind, I—"

"You didn't leave me behind, Captain, I pushed you into—"

"_I was supposed to get you out of there_," snapped Chris reflexively, then drew in a sharp breath. Even after three months, the situation was still too fresh to remember calmly. "The one thing I was supposed to do, I didn't do. There was a lot of things I didn't do that a half-decent Captain or friend _would've_, and a number of things I _did_ that only some asshole drunkard would have the gall to do."

Befuddled, stormy grey-green eyes stared up at him, at a loss of how to respond. _Dammit, this isn't coming out right_, grumbled Chris to himself as Nivans stood rooted and confused. But the Captain had to get this out one way or another, even if it took all day of standing on that beach. Piers needed to know.

"What I'm trying to say is…" A breath; the young sniper kept eye contact as Chris tightened his hold. "I'm saying...when I was at my lowest, I did and said a lot things...I treated you so bad...and I've spent nights thinking _if I only had one more talk with him_...it was all I could think about last night. When I was lost, you looked for me, and when I was down and out and couldn't even tell my ass from elbow, you stuck with me...I want to make up for that. I want to be there for you like you were for me. I want to say _I'm sorry_ a billion times, because I know it's not half of what you deserve, but if I can try…"

"Captain…" Hazel orbs glistened with tears, his usual confident voice wavering in emotion. "I didn't do anything of those things so you could _owe me_—"

"That isn't what I'm saying." Chris shook his head vigorously. "It's not that I feel the _obligation_ to return some favor, it's not that at all." Releasing Piers' hand, the Captain cupped his young face with both of his large hands, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm saying...I want to make you happy. I want to see your eyes light up...like I know they can. I know I hurt you before, but I want to make it up to you." Chris offered his ace a trembling smile, their noses millimeters apart. "If you'll let me."

"All of that to ask if I want to go with you?" Piers laughed, although his tone was shaking. He forgot the part about how while he'd been sitting at the bottom of Tatchi harbor, Chris woke up each morning with what happened. He looked at his current Alpha team and probably saw everyone he lost before—

"I want to take care of you," whispered the Captain as he brushed his lips over Nivans' flushed cheek. "And I want to love you...and eat ice cream at two in the morning...and sleep in till noon and...take really long, hot showers with you. Is that...okay…?"

"I'm down," replied the ace hoarsely. "Although I would just be okay to stay by your side…"

"This time, I'll be your side, too, my dear."

—


End file.
